


Greg's Turn

by DaisyFairy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Jokes, First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, Mention of autopsy, Moriarty is Dead, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9148336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/pseuds/DaisyFairy
Summary: A little happiness for Greg and Mycroft before whatever mess they are going to get themselves into with tonight's episode hits.Greg is happily daydreaming at a party when Mycroft arrives and things go better than he ever could have hoped.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I'm awful at titles.

Greg looks around. He is at a celebration party at 221b, the fire is roaring, he has had his fill of Chinese takeaway and he has a glass of whisky in his hand. 

Moriarty is dead (again), this time he had seen the body himself, felt the cold skin, and had subtlely stuck a pin in the man's arm to see if he was faking. He had felt even better when he had gone into the mortuary and seen Molly elbow deep in the body pulling out his lungs through the gap where she had cracked his ribs open.

So, no more Moriarty, good food, expensive whisky, warm fire, and surrounded by his friends. This is a good night. Sherlock and John are sitting in the sofa, they have been drinking so are leaning on each other a little as they share a joke, and Greg can see John whisper something into Sherlock's ear in a far to intimate to just be mates way. Greg smiles at the way the two men think that no one has noticed. Molly is discussing cake recipes with Mrs Hudson in the kitchen leaving Greg on his own leaning against the doorframe between the lounge and kitchen. 

He closes his eyes for a second allowing himself to just feel the slight buzz of whisky in his veins and the contendedness of being totally at peace. The only thing that could complete the evening would be someone to go home with, share a joke, a kiss, maybe more. Just then he hears the door to the flat open, a slightly chilled breeze against his skin. Opening his eyes he sees that the someone he has often dreamed of has just appeared, as if called by his thoughts. He smiles slowly as he sees Sherlock glare at the new arrival. Once upon a time he had believed the charade the brothers played, that they did not like one another, but he had seen Sherlock's panic the previous week when Moriarty had almost killed Mycroft, and the relieved hug Mycroft had given Sherlock when it was all over and they were both safe. Idiots the pair of them, as if anyone would think less of them for loving their brother.

Greg is shaken from these thoughts by the object of his affections coming towards him, heading to the kitchen for a drink presumably. 'Fuck it' he thinks, he's had enough of messing around, maybe he can't expect the kissing or, well, other things, but he can at least try to make the man laugh. 

Mycroft is just about to walk past so Greg blurts out, "Why was the snowman looking at the carrots in the supermarket?" 

This is met by a blank, almost startled stare, 'Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, God I've had more whisky than I thought' he thinks, but it's too late to stop now so he finishes the joke "Because he was picking his nose."

Mycroft gives him an appraising look up and down, nods and continues on his way into the kitchen. Greg closes his eyes and feels mortification burning in his chest. He opens his eyes again briefly and sees John raise a questioning eyebrow at him. 'Oh God, John saw.' Sherlock is looking at his phone, absolutely NOT looking at Greg in the aftermath of his attempted flirting, for which Greg is profoundly grateful. Moving or leaving both seem likely to draw attention so he decides to return to the darkness behind his eyelids where he can pretend that he isn't here. He is just getting his breathing back under control when he feels a firm pressure against his shoulder and upper arm. Startled he looks around to see Mycroft, whisky in hand, leaning against the doorframe next to him, shoulder to shoulder, and showing no inclination to move away from the contact.

Greg hears Mycroft's voice in his ear, little more than a murmur, "Gregory," he can see John straining to hear from the nearby sofa and Sherlock's ears have pricked up "Two snowmen were standing in a field, one said to the other 'Can you smell carrots?'"

Greg's lips slowly curve into a smile and he lets a small chuckle emerge, a darting glance shows John's mouth hanging open and Sherlock staring with narrowed eyes. Deciding to ignore the youngsters Greg counters with "What does Father Christmas do when his elves misbehave?" He gently digs his elbow into Mycroft's side to prompt a response.

Mycroft looks at him with undisguised amusement, "Hmm, I don't know." He answers, his voice still low enough that the pair on the sofa are leaning forward to eavesdrop.

"He gives them the sack."

Mycroft giggles, actually giggles, in response, and his posture softens further, leaning a little harder against Greg.

"For God's sake, it isn't even Christmas," Sherlock cries from the sofa, "stop this disgusting display."

Mycroft stiffens and he draws himself up to his full height, "Sherlock, if you want to talk about public displays I could mention the things I saw you and John getting up to in the alley last week, you really should check for cameras you know." Greg stifles a choked laugh that tries to escape his throat, ending up huffing out of his nose.

"I don't know which alley you are taking about." Sherlock replies in a dismissive tone.

"Oh, you make a habit of engaging in fellatio in alleys do you?" Mycroft counters looking down his nose at his sibling.

Sherlock opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by John kicking him in the shin and saying "Yeah, we'll have to be more careful. Come on 'lock, lets get a drink." He then drags the younger Holmes brother into the kitchen leaving the two older men alone.

Mycroft saunters over to the fireplace, his posture relaxing again, Greg follows and they stand side by side looking into the flames. Mycroft puts his glass onto the mantelpiece with a quiet clink and takes Greg's glass placing it carefully next to his own. He then turns to Greg "What does the snowman have for breakfast?"

Greg smiles warmly, he knows this one, "Snowflakes." He replies confidently looking into Mycroft's eyes and licking his lips.

Mycroft leans in close and whispers "No." He pushes forward, gently cups the back of Greg's neck with one hand and brushes their lips together. "You'll have to wait until the morning to find out."

Greg gasps but before he can respond is pulled into a harder kiss, Mycroft pulling his head forward with the hand on his nape and their bodies closer with his other arm wrapping around his waist. Greg feels the wet tip of Mycroft's tongue probing for access and opens his mouth, moaning a little at the invasion, then responds in kind, licking into Mycroft's mouth and caressing his tongue with his own. His arms wrap themselves around Mycroft pulling them together from chest to groin and he groans when he feels that he is not the only one who is being physically affected by this kiss.

They break the kiss, but stay close, panting into each others mouths. "I can have a car here in four minutes, join me?"

Greg nods breathlessly, and Mycroft pecks him on the lips then pulls away slightly to get his phone out. He taps a brief message in and as he presses send he slips it back into his jacket pocket and dives in for another kiss. His fingers run through Greg's hair as the kiss turns dirtier, definitely into snogging territory now. Greg hears a squeak that sounds like Molly from the kitchen door which is then slammed closed, but the kiss continues until Mycroft's phone beeps in his pocket. Mycroft breaks away regretfully, leaving Greg's front feeling cold and exposed, saying "That is our car, shall we?"

Greg bites his lip a little nervously at how quickly this is escalating, but then decisively sets his shoulders and nods. This has been a secret dream for months, he can't let a few nerves ruin it now.

Mycroft smirks, "Very well, lets go."

The two men leave the party without a backward glance, the sound of Greg's squeal when Mycroft fondles his arse drifting back up towards the flat as they go.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this.
> 
> I am DaisyFairy1 on Tumblr.


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